Foster's Home for Tipsy Redheads
by Dude13
Summary: Why drinking and caretaking can be a dangerous mix....[Oneshot]


Given to me as a suggestion some time ago, and I finally got my act together to write this. I know, it's kind of unusual from what I usually write, but I found it to be an interesting change. Thus, nevertheless I hope you enjoy! 

Plus read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends.

* * *

"Oh, for the love of-" 

Mr. Herriman, Head of Business Affairs of Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, grumbled irritably as he descended the staircase in his usual dignified hop. Muttering darkly under his breath, he quickly made his way over to a young redheaded woman who was busily scrubbing away at the foyer floor.

"Miss Frances, what on earth is _this_?" he cried, pointing at her unusually messy cleaning job, jabbing a finger angrily at the globs of stray soap suds and odd patches of filthy, untouched tile, galvanizing him into a fierce tirade.

"This is simply unacceptable! What has gotten into you, young lady? Do you really think you can pass this off even as a somewhat acceptable cleaning job? You've completely missed some of the thickest patches of grime! That water, why, it doesn't even look tepid! How on earth do you expect to cleanse even so much as a few dust specks with that? You're even failing to scrub in circles, what's this wobbly back-and-forth nonsense that I see? Honestly, why are you-"

"Huh?"

Frances "Frankie" Foster grunted dumbly in reply without even glancing up, finally acknowledging his presence. Stung by the sheer lack of respect, Mr. Herriman stomped one of his large rabbit feet hard against the floor, fuming angrily in his rage.

"When I'm talking to you, then you _listen_ to me, young lady!" he roared, waving his arms wildly. "I swear, one of these days, I'm going to-"

Whatever threat he wished to give, it was never known. For in his frenzied excitement, the rabbit failed to realize how frantically he was gesturing, that is until his hand came into light contact with the girl's exposed rear.

Emitting an loud gasp of astonishment gasp, Frankie let her brush fall limply from her hands as she scrambled to her knees with a start. Wide-eyed with total disbelief, the girl turned around, faced her employer's gaze…

"_Well_?" Mr. Herriman demanded with an ugly scowl.

It was then that she elicited a whimsy giggle, much to his surprise.

Cocking his head confusedly, the puzzled rabbit scratched behind his ear, badly bewildered by her response.

"Er….Miss Frances?" he inquired dumbly.

"Yeah?" the caretaker laughed softly, a noticeable blush slowly taking form upon her pale, peach-toned features. Mr. Herriman rubbed his eyes a little in total disbelief. Something _clearly_ was wrong, this didn't seem to be right at _all_. Where was the snappy response? The groaned excuse? The muttered sarcasm, or the rolled eyes? For God's sake, he had just given her a firm scolding, and in response all he received was a slight chuckle in response. Either this was all a cruel hoax, or the laws of nature had been reversed and no one had cared to inform him.

In the meantime, Frankie's blush had only spread unchecked, and at this point her entire face sported a fine shade of bright crimson.

"You…y-you wanted to say something, Mr. H?" she twittered, averting her gaze shyly like a flirty schoolgirl.

Almost as soon as he made such a connection in his mind, he immediately felt a sudden flow of blood to his face. Had it not been for his fine layer of thick, silvery gray fur he was sure he would've become red as a blazing sunset.

"Uh…well, I just…." Mr. Herriman struggled to explain himself, an act in itself was as rare as an eclipse of the sun. Usually, the business-minded imaginary friend was never at a total loss for words. But then again, usually everything was in its place, as he preferred it to be, and thus could be perfectly explained away with simple logic and rationality. But, by the way Frankie shot him a queer grin and had begun to playfully twirl a strand of scarlet hair in her fingers, it was clearly something was blatantly out of the ordinary.

For a few moments, they continued as they were. Frankie continued to peer into his gaze expectantly, her own eyes a tad duller than usual but nonetheless full of some exotic spark, and also the girl let her coy smile grow a little with every passing instant. As he felt a few beads of sweat begin to trickle down his forehead, Mr. Herriman anxiously tugged at his stiff white collar, struggling to find something to say.

"Uh….carry on, Miss Frances!" he finally blurted out, deciding that it was utterly useless to try and save face and be free of this agonizing awkwardness. Hastily the large imaginary rabbit friend whirled about and hopped off into the refuge of his office, unusually eager to get to the cold, clear logic of the house's financial needs, where at least he knew he would find rhyme and reason to everything. He scuttled off into the spacious room, and the door slammed shut behind him.

However, considering that Mr. Herriman, seeing as he had been three quarters of the way across to his desk at the time this occurred, it was needless to saw quite a nasty surprise for him.

Whirling about in shock, almost instantly his gaze locked upon the lanky redhead, leaning casually against the closed doors, a coquettish smile lying firmly plastered upon her shining crimson features.

"Miss….Miss Frances…." Mr. Herriman began, badly taken aback by her extremely unusual behavior. "What…w-what are you-"

"What was _that_?" Frankie giggled in inquiry. Immediately he met her with a blank stare, no visible hint comprehension noticeable in his features whatsoever.

"Come again?" he tried to reply in the required formal tone, although much to his horror it came out as a hoarse squeak more than anything. Frankie threw back her head and shorted in rapturous laughter.

"Hahahahaha! Whadya mean?" she giggled merrily.

"I…"

"_This_!" Frankie trilled, turning around a little to give herself a solid slap on her rear. "What was this all about?" she reiterated, emphasizing her point with another firm whack.

"I…I did no such thing!" Mr. Herriman protested frantically, his pulse quickening a considerable amount. "I just….well, all I wished was to…..er…."

While unsuccessfully stammering out a somewhat comprehensible excuse, he hastily backed off to take refuge behind his solid oak desk, his last remaining barrier against this unexplainable phenomena he was experiencing. However, Frankie seemed completely oblivious to his sudden need to put some space between him and her, and she had as of yet to notice the manner in which he had suddenly lost control of his own voice. Smiling wickedly, she pried herself from her perch against the doors and began to make her way towards the badly bewildered imaginary friend, going at a steady, though slightly wobbly stride.

"Miss Frances, please!" the terribly anxious Mr. Herriman pleaded, severely unused to receiving such treatment from her. "What are you-_MISS_ _FRANCES_!"

Completely disregarding his shocked cry, the girl only let loose with a devious laugh as she clumsily clambered atop the desk, scattering papers everywhere as she seemed to have an obvious amount of difficulty in coordinating her motor skills. Finally though, after more effort than was necessarily needed, the redhead plopped herself comfortably atop the hard oak surface, swinging her legs in a carefree fashion as she shot her very stunned employer yet another playfully fiendish smile.

"Aw, now what is it, bunny?" she asked as she prodded him softly in his white underbelly, causing him to jerk slightly in his seat.

"Miss Frances, please!" Mr. Herriman implored, indignantly slapping her hand away. "Gracious child, what on earth has gotten into you? You do _not_ address me as-"

"A child?" Frankie sniggered with a devilish grin. "Me? Yeah, right! More like a naughty little girl according to what _you_ did in the foyer…"

"I meant to do no such thing!" he protested miserably, slamming a gloved fist hard upon his desk. The young woman only chuckled gleefully as she felt the wooden surface vibrate beneath her and immediately she responded in turn, leaning forward to tickle a floppy rabbit ear.

"Miss Fra-" the exasperated creature groaned, struggling to bat her prying hand away, with unfortunately very little success.

"Liar!" she happily announced in an oddly slurred accusation. "What was it? Now what was it I was doin' that was so naughty?"

"I implore you that you stop saying that!" Mr. Herriman wailed in frustration, bobbing his head about and desperately trying to escape her tickly touch. Every time her fingers scored even a slight ruffling of fur, he would let out a loud whoop of surprise, getting a fiendish snicker out of his tormentor.

"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" Frankie chanted merrily in a singsong manner. "Naughty little Frankie Foster, not doing her chores! Whatcha gonna do about _that_, Funny Bunny?"

"Miss Frances-" Mr. Herriman tried to plead with her one last time in a last ditch effort to reason to her rationality, which seemed to have left the building completely. At this point he had given up avoiding her touch and instead tried to focus on blocking her prying touch, trying to form a slapdash barrier with his arms. Sniggering joyfully, Frankie eagerly took up the challenge, both hands moving in a blur in a concentrated effort to tickle his ears or ruffle his finely-groomed fur the wrong way.

"Naught, naughty, naughty Frankie Foster." She continued to coo. "She doesn't do very well at cleaning up the house….that's cuz' she's _such_ a dirty girl…."

"FRANKIE!" Mr. Herriman nearly screamed, completely at his wits end with her. With a wild burst of effort, he managed to grab hold of both the young woman's slender arms with one quick movement, effectively holding them with one hand while he reached out to chastise her with the other.

"I don't know what on earth has gotten into you today, young lady!" he scolded her soundly. "But I'll be dammed if I let such flippant disregard for respect continue on for any long-"

As he reached out to grab hold of her earlobe in the manner of punishing a naughty toddler, Frankie again only squealed in laughter as she slipped her hands free from his grip in a quick jerking tug.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a sec!" she giggled, easily nabbing hold of his outstretched paw. "Can't you give me a moment?"

"Miss Frances, _please_!" he implored her again, struggling in vain to remove his hand free from her unexpectedly firm grip. "What on earth are you-"

"You could've just asked, y'know." She chuckled, flashing him a sly wink. Before another word could roll of his tongue, the young woman had completely undid her customary ponytail. As lush, crimson hair tumbled down to her shoulders, Mr. Herriman couldn't help but gasp a little in awe.

"Here, silly." Frankie tittered, gently positioning his paw up to her scarlet locks. She sighed gently as she steered his fingers into her soft, fiery hair.

"Gotta do it softly, y'see?" she giggled, moving his paw in a delicate stroking motion. "Softly….softly…..there….yeah, that's it…"

As she let go, the twenty-two-year-old let a blissful smile dance across her face as she felt him continue without her aid. His paw shaking visibly, Mr. Herriman couldn't help but go on.

Despite the fact that his rationality and logic were screeching at him like a pair of angry banshees at this point to desist, oddly enough, he just couldn't help it but go on. Her hair…well, it was just so soft…and that smile, she seemed so content…who was he to disturb her happiness?

"Mr. Herriman…." Frankie suddenly moaned gently, shutting her eyes to focus on the enjoyment his touch brought her.

"Y-yes, Frankie?" he choked out, dropping the formality.

"I….I….." she whispered, leaning forward….and forward….and a little more forward….

By the time he realized that she was in the act of freely falling from her perch, he just barely had enough time to catch her before she tumbled to the floor in a limp heap. Panicked, he hurriedly checked her over as soon as he had her cradled in a firm grip. Much to his shock, Frankie had completely passed out, eyes tightly shut, and breathing smelling strongly of…._alcohol_?

His head spun in dizzying confusion. _What_ on earth was going on here?

"_HERRIMAN_!" the stern cry suddenly broke the awkward moment, like a warm knife slicing through butter. Horrified, he looked up in shock to meet the scowling gaze of his very own creator. However, strangely enough, despite the peculiar position he as in, the fact that her granddaughter was out like a light didn't seem to faze the old woman one bit.. Steadily she just hobbled her way into the room, carrying a glass bottle, half-filled with some indistinguishable orange liquid sloshing about as she waved it angrily in the air..

"Oh _no_…." he whispered, terrible comprehension slowly dawning upon him. Meanwhile, Madame Foster only growled irritably as she dropped the bottle unceremoniously onto the desk, glaring at him fiercely.

"I don't know _what_ exactly is in that "special" carrot juice of yours," she snapped fiercely, giving him a sharp rap to the foot with her cane. "But either you start labeling it when you put it in the fridge, or _stop storing it next to the orange juice_!"

* * *

"Ah, did you enjoy your nap, Miss Frances?" The finely-attired rabbit asked politely as he hopped into the living room.

Frankie nodded wearily from her perch upon the couch, where she had been watching an old rerun of her much-beloved "The Loved and the Loveless."

"Uh, yeah, I think." She murmured, peering at him through baggy eyes. "But…I dunno, I think I should've stayed in bed for another hour or so, I think I'm coming down with something."

"Really? Why do you say so?" Mr. Herriman inquired, frowning concernedly.

The girl winced as she rubbed her head gently. "Sorry, it's just that I've had this splitting headache since I woke up. But it's not just that bothering me."

"Um, it isn't?" Mr. Herriman responded, this time a little bit apprehensively.

"Yeah…thing is, I know I woke up half-an-hour ago, but…well, I don't remember settling down for a name in the first place. Now why on earth…y'know, it's just the weirdest thing, I just can't figure out-"

"Just take your time, Miss Frances" he abruptly quickly cut her off, giving her a curt nod. "If you're simply not feeling well, then that's fine, there'll be no need for me to-"

"Got it, Frankie!" An eight-year-old boy suddenly cried, waving an ice pack triumphantly in his hand as he hastily scampered into the room, interrupting the pair.

"Thanks, pal!" Frankie laughed with a weak grin, gratefully accepting the icy relief from his outstretched hands and immediately placing it upon her throbbing skull.

"Any better?" Mac asked worriedly, clambering up alongside her upon the sofa. The girl sighed contentedly as the dull chill eased the effects of her unrecognized hangover.

"Much. Thanks a bunch, kiddo." She sighed happily, ruffling the child's hair affectionately before switching her attention back to the previous conversation.

"Oopes, I'm sorry! You were saying something, Mr. H?"

Rather than say anything, he just glared at her solemnly, lips pursed and hands clasped tightly behind his back. Upon seeing his change in expression, the girl instinctively winced and shut her eyes tightly, recognizing that look immediately as the first sign of a long, stern-

"EEK!"

The young woman squealed in surprise as she felt a hand gently run itself through her hair, hanging loosely above her shoulders since she first woke up. Jolting a little in her seat, Frankie's eyes snapped back open to glare blankly at the large imaginary rabbit, utterly slack-jawed and completely dumbstruck by what just happened.

"M-Mr. Herriman…" she whispered incredulously.

The normally austere rabbit gazed at her silently for a few seconds, flashed a warm grin, then promptly whirled about and exited the room, unsuccessfully stifling a deep chuckle.

"Frankie…." Mac muttered, wide-eyed in disbelief at what the bizarre scene he had just witnessed. "What was _that_?"

"I dunno." She whispered, equally awed. "But…."

"But?" the boy asked, cocking his head in bewilderment.

"Well….call me crazy….but….I dunno, whatever it was, I think I kinda liked it…."

"Huh?"

"Uh, never mind."

**The End**

* * *

And that's as far as I can go with this plot, I can't write jack squat when it comes to romance.

What? Who says carrot juice has to be non-alcoholic? Maybe House President is more of a stressful job then we think it is….

Ha, thanks for reading, anyway! Please review, I appreciate all feedback!


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